Fire Trap

4 - Forringer

I had a window seat next to Mr. Foringer. Actually, we had progressed to Mark. I'd recounted to him my graduation in computer science from Berkeley, my internal auditing stint with the Mutual Insurance Company of Sacramento, and my mid-life crisis where I quit auditing to become a low-paid field investigator. I skipped over my divorce and starting my Portland-based business.

He was attentive, inserting a question or two when he wanted clarification. When I paused, which was frequently, he supplied a connective like, "and then?". I played along because it wouldn't hurt him to know something about me, and I wanted him to open up in turn.

The stewardess brought cheese, crackers, and drinks. Mark had mineral water.

I had a Coke. I peeled the flattened golf ball of Gouda cheese and ate the airline offerings. When I was done, I noticed that there were cracker crumbs on my tray and pants. Mark's tray was as spotless as his suit. He'd apparently spent extra at his tailor's for anti-cracker fabric. I guess that summed up the difference between a CEO and me, I didn't even know a tailor could help you with that problem.

"Could we go through the company history in a little more detail?" I asked. "You mentioned that Gallagher, Roseman, and Wilson were the original founders, based on Gallagher and Roseman's work in Oregon."

"At that time," Mark explained, "Wilson was a CPA for a venture firm in Palo Alto called the Stevenson Group. I have to give him credit. He proposed the idea for Genetrix to Hillberg Partners before he even talked to Gallagher or Rosemen or knew what a liposome was."

"How is that possible for a CPA?"

Mark went on to explain that venture deals are based more on people and their track records than specific products. Everything else changes too quickly. Gallagher and Roseman's lab had been producing a steady stream of breakthrough results in respected journals like Nature and Science. Neal got Doug Hillberg to agree to look at the concept if a business plan could show a commercial return in five years. A very short time in the biotech industry.

Knowing he had Hillberg in his pocket, Neal went to Oregon and talked to Gallagher and Roseman with the allure of directing their own research with nearly unlimited funds. They settled on liposomes as the shortest path to commercialization.

"Didn't the Oregon Biotechnology Institute have rights to their research?" I said, interrupting this fairy tale come true.

"Sure, but basic liposome creation techniques were already in the literature and not proprietary. As long as the proposed products took them in a new direction, there was nothing the Oregon Biotechnology Institute could do."

"Don't misunderstand me," I said, trying to soften my next question, "I believe we're dealing with an accidental death by fire here, but can you think of anyone who would profit by Simon's death."

"Only his mother in L.A.," he said, "but even she would be due a lot more if he had died after the current round of funding finishes."

Wouldn't she get his stock and profit along with everyone else?"

Mark chuckled at my question. He explained that principals have to sell their stock back to the company if they're terminated, quit, or die. It prevents ownership dilution by scientifically or financially unsophisticated owners.

"But his stock?"

"His mother would get its value at the time of death. He shares would revert proportionally as options to the other investors. Options costing the same price as his mother would receive."

"That means you would receive some."

"Yes."

"You wouldn't get any money?" I could tell by the pitying look in his eye that he realized I was lost. It was the look you give a slow cashier who's still adding up your purchases after you've run the total three times in your head while waiting.